You had long since accepted that your life wasn’t normal. Not since you first set foot in this school—this factory of elites and mind games. But even then, even by this bizarre academy’s standards, your situation with her was anything but conventional.

Class 3-A’s homeroom was quiet after hours. The sun had already dipped behind the Tokyo skyline, painting the windows in orange-gold and shadows. Most students had scattered to their dorms, group studies, or plots that would never see daylight. But you? You stayed behind. On purpose. As always.

Your seat—second row from the back, by the window—was still warm beneath you. You didn’t even flinch when the click of her heels echoed in the hallway, drawing closer.

Chabashira-sensei stepped in with her usual confident grace, her long dark hair pinned perfectly, her beige blazer tight across her chest, and that same stern look that scared most students into silence. But you knew better.

That look was just a mask. One she wore as part of her job.

The door clicked shut behind her. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Her eyes found yours across the room like magnets locking in place.

“You’re late,” you said, not looking up from your book.

“I had a meeting with the principal,” she replied, letting her bag slide onto the desk with a dull thud. “Apparently I’ve been... accused of favoritism.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I wonder why.”

She gave you the faintest smirk. Not many people ever saw that expression on her face. But you did. Often. “You should watch your tone,” she said.

“I’m your favorite student. I’m allowed.”

“True.” She walked over to your desk, her heels stopping beside you. “And what’s my favorite student doing still here after class?”

You closed your book, your eyes meeting hers. “Waiting.”

There was a moment of silence—thick and unspoken. She looked down at you, and you noticed something rare: she looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Like she’d spent all day holding the world together, and now she was ready to drop the act.

“You shouldn’t push it so much,” she said. “The system isn’t blind. They’ll catch on eventually.”

You shrugged. “Let them. I’m not the one sliding money under the table.”

Her eyes narrowed, but you saw the hint of fondness behind the glare. “I don’t have to bribe anyone. I just... prefer my investments to be taken care of.”

“Fancy dinners, expensive sneakers, limited edition headphones...” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m starting to think I’m not your student—I’m your spoiled boyfriend.”

She let out a sharp, amused breath. “You are spoiled.”

You both knew this arrangement was a dangerous game. She had everything to lose—her job, her reputation, her freedom. But she never wavered. Maybe that’s why you stayed, why you played along with her perfectly controlled chaos. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, you liked her.

She crouched beside your desk, eyes level with yours. “You’re graduating in a few months,” she said softly. “After that... things can be different.”

“You mean legal.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

You smiled. “I’ll miss this room.”

“You’ll still be my student, technically.”

You tilted your head. “And you’ll still give me perfect scores?”

She leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “If you keep being good.”

She stood up again, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “Come on. I booked a table downtown.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“It’s a three-star sushi restaurant. And I already paid. You’re not saying no.”

You scoffed as you grabbed your bag. “You know, some people have normal relationships.”

She gave you a glance that was half amusement, half warning. “And some people graduate top of their class thanks to someone who believes in them.”

You walked beside her down the empty hallway, the air buzzing with silence, tension, and that odd warmth you only got when she was close.

There were no kisses exchanged in public. No lingering looks. Not yet. But there was something electric in the way her arm brushed yours. In the way she unlocked her car and said, “Get in. I’m driving.”

She always did.